


Crown

by MimicMadness



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempted Murder, Faked Suicide, For the most part, Gen, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, MCYT Drawing and Writing Challenge, Murder, Real names are used, but on a very large scale, content warnings are as follows:, it's a heathers au, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimicMadness/pseuds/MimicMadness
Summary: this is a prompt thing for a discord I'm in, so have a Heathers AU
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Crown

Clay always found the dynamics of the schools he went to interesting, amusing even. He’d seen the cliques and the power dynamics. He’d not only bore witness to bullying but had been bullied himself - just another reason for him to stick to reading, not to mention how he’d be there for a month or so at most. However, he had to admit, Mansterburg High was by far the most interesting school he’d been to when it came to the hierarchy.

The power was dictated by one specific group - The Badlands they called themselves - and  _ they _ even had a hierarchy of their own. They were royalty when it came to the rest of the school, and only one could wear their crown.

He found it funny that said crown was actually a red scrunchie. 

Darryl was the one who wore their metaphorical crown, a simple band around his wrist that complimented the red outfit he dawned daily. After him was a kid who he had only ever heard referred to as Ant, Clay thought he was a bit of a try-hard. He seemed to want nothing more but be in the spotlight, to take hold of the crown and be the leader. It was almost sad. Then there was Sam, he didn’t seem to hold much power in the group when it came to things like decisions. Clay had to admit that he knew his way around art and writing, which he respected.

Then, there was George.

Clay couldn’t describe him if he tried. No matter how many stories he had read, how many he had written, he couldn't seem to do George justice with the words he knew. It was as if he was outside of the human lexicon. If Clay were an artist, he doesn’t think he’d be able to do him justice there either.

There was no way to properly capture George’s mismatched eyes, the small splash of freckles on his face, his hair messy in a way few could ever hope to pull off, those red-tinted glasses that were almost always perched on his nose. The way the light hit him just right sometimes, causing him to look ethereal. The way he looked that one night with his clothing slightly messy and smelling vaguely of beer, having just climbed in through his window and straddling him. If there was one memory he could burn into his brain for the rest of time, it would be that one. He would’ve taken a picture right then if he could’ve.

His plan for revenge against the top dogs was only solidified when he was jolted awake by George’s yelling, dried tear tracks staining his cheeks. He almost needed to coax out the nightmare from the gorgeous boy in his lap, whipping away the stray tears. His poor George, plagued with nightmares because of that awful, self-appointed king.

He’d make sure George was safe and sound. Nobody would hurt him.

He was a little disappointed when George didn’t want to slip the drain cleaner into Darryl’s drink, or even just give him the mug full of it. But that doesn’t mean he stopped him when he grabbed the wrong mug, dissolving Darryl from the inside out. Clay thought the suicide note they had written was beautiful.

Clay couldn’t even get close to explaining his fury when his Georgie came to him at 2 in the morning - having climbed through his window - in tears, explaining he was nearly sexually assaulted by those two 5-star jocks from his god-forsaken school. So, he got an idea, the perfect way to get revenge.

He knew he couldn’t tell George he was going to kill them, it would only scare him away. Of course, a ‘fake’ double-suicide would make sense, it would embarrass them if they got them naked - well, at least down to their underwear - and took pictures. Make it seem like they did it because of the homophobic world around them. He knew his Georgie could fake their handwriting with ease.

He told George they were using special bullets to knock them out just long enough to make things believable. He called them “Ich lüge” bullets, he didn’t want to be completely dishonest. It’s not  _ his _ fault George didn’t know German. He had George call them while they were together, hands roaming and stifled laughter as he eavesdropped. Then it was decided, the cemetery at dawn. They still had time to burn.

Clay was bursting at the seams as he hid behind the tree, wearing a duller hoodie as to not give himself away. He felt hot magma in his veins when Schlatt and Alex appeared, his finger fiddling with the trigger of his gun, waiting for the signal. As soon as it came, two shots were fired as Clay whipped around from his spot, finishing the countdown. He was frustrated when he missed his shot on Schlatt, but the job was finished soon enough.

He was confused when George wasn’t happy with him. Didn’t he want revenge on them? They did awful things to him, why wouldn’t he want them dead? Why was he mad at Clay for protecting him?

Eventually, things came to a boiling point. George threw him out like he was just a piece of trash. An all-encompassing fire seemed to consume him. Wasn’t George grateful? He found himself resentful at the mindless drones of Mansterburg High, they had something to do with it, surely. His Georgie would never leave him.

So, he built a bomb. Multiple actually, the upcoming festival proving to be a perfect opportunity to show George how awful this school’s society, this  _ world’s _ society, was. Maybe then he would understand that Clay was simply trying to protect him.

But when he found George dead in his closet, a wave of sorrow crashed over him, the freezing cold swiftly being replaced by a white-hot title wave of lava. Now he  _ had _ to do it. They took him away permanently and now they were going to pay. Dearly.

You could imagine his shock when George swung open the door to the boiler room while Clay was finishing hooking the TNT up. It was sweet of George to try and stop him, but he had his mind made up. He was blowing this shithole to smithereens, George be damned. 

If Clay was being honest, he wasn’t all too shocked by the outcome of their scuffle. Shot in the chest with his own gun, slowly making his way over to George to take the damned ticking time bomb from him. He wasn’t letting the one thing that was right in that hellscape die. He was too damaged to do anything else, and he knew a long time ago that he would give his life for George’s.

He uttered his final goodbye once they reached an empty field, away from the other bombs. He knew it would be gory, and he told George to turn around. He didn’t want his angel to suffer any more than he already had.

3...

He knew George would set things right and get rid of that stupid fucking crown.

2…

He knew George could make Mansterburg a better place.

1…

He only hoped George had faith in himself and knew how much Clay adored him

**_Boom_ **


End file.
